


The Things We Do For Love

by really_damn_tired



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Era, F/M, Homophobia, Horror, M/M, Nightmare Fuel, Stuff happens, i guess, idk what to tag this, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:09:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29800671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/really_damn_tired/pseuds/really_damn_tired
Summary: For a second all was numb. Hamilton fell to the ground. Then came the pain. It was like a monster, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn’t do much, only lie there and hope someone would come and get him. The ground shook with the force of men running. They were shouting but he couldn’t hear them. The pain was too much. All he could think of was the pain.“This is it,” he thought, “I’m going to die here.” Then he remembered.Eliza and their child.He couldn’t die here, he needed to get home, he couldn’t die without seeing his child. Somehow, this thought gave him the strength to carry on but he was losing himself at the same time. His vision was blurry and all he could feel was the blood dripping slowly out of his body. Two large hands pushed him up.“John?” he mumbled, just as he fell unconscious.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The Things We Do For Love

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey hey im trying, bare with me here. This is my first proper fic and im aware that the pacing is horrible but ive never written anything as long as this before so, here, enjoy :)
> 
> **TW/CW: Vague depictions of violence, implied gunshots, blood, mention of Hell, death, homophobia, mentions of arrest, mentions of death, mentions of a suicide attempt, mention of illness, death from illness, mention of malnourishment, vivid nightmare, imagined ghosts, description of claustrophobia, description of corpses, a lot of blood, lethal head injury, mentions of throwing up, horror-style tea party, more imagined corpses, mentions of scaring, darkness, graveyard, screaming, even more corpses, jumpscare, implied claustrophobia**

For a second all was numb. Hamilton fell to the ground. Then came the pain. It was like a monster, threatening to swallow him whole. He couldn’t do much, only lie there and hope someone would come and get him. The ground shook with the force of men running. They were shouting but he couldn’t hear them. The pain was too much. All he could think of was the pain.

“This is it,” he thought, “I’m going to die here.” Then he remembered.

Eliza and their child.

He couldn’t die here, he needed to get home, he couldn’t die without seeing his child. Somehow, this thought gave him the strength to carry on but he was losing himself at the same time. His vision was blurry and all he could feel was the blood dripping slowly out of his body. Two large hands pushed him up.

“John?” he mumbled, just as he fell unconscious.

* * *

“Alexander!” Laurens shouted. He pushed open the flap and saw his love lying in a cot on the other side of the room. His skin was pale and tears were falling down his face.

“Jack,” he whispered. Barely thinking, Laurens moved over and knelt down. Subconsciously, he grabbed his hand and it was only when Alexander squeezed back he noticed. Words weren’t enough for them at that moment, all they could do was look into each other’s eyes. The whole world was melting away 

“Gentlemen,” came a voice from behind them. Laurens tried to pull his hand back as he turned, but Hamilton held him even tighter. The doctor seemed to notice and hesitated slightly. “...The bullet went completely through your body, there’s no way of saving you,” Laurens felt his stomach fall to Hell and back. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to scream, he wanted to do something, anything. In that moment he would’ve died to save his love. Everything else had vanished and an earthquake couldn’t have moved him. 

The silence hung in the air for a while as they both tried to process this information.

“Jack,” Hamilton said. Laurens turned around and noticed Hamilton’s hand was tightening on his. “I love you, Jack, I hope you know that.”

“Of course I know that, my dear boy,” He knelt down and put his hand on Hamilton’s pale cheek. “I love you too.” Slowly, Hamilton melted into his touch and pulled him closer. He didn’t have the strength to do much else. His ginger hair was covered in dirt and blood and the colour was slowly draining from his face as the blood came out of him. His breathing was slow and getting slower; most of his strength was keeping his eyes on Laurens. Eventually he spoke, “Can you kiss me?”

Laurens didn’t even nod before his lips were on Hamilton’s. His lips were cold and Laurens could tell he didn’t have much time left. Every time John tried to pull back, Alex would kiss him harder. Soon, however, he lost his strength and Laurens pulled back.

“Jack, my dear, please,” he gasped in pain.

“Shh, save your strength, my love” Laurens pressed his forehead to Hamilton’s. He felt his love wince at the pain. His breathing slowed before he spoke again.

“Jack, take care of my wife for me” Alexander’s voice was slow and quiet; he didn’t have much time left. John pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I know,” he lost his voice again, “I know, you don’t enjoy women in such a way,” he winced, “but I want you to look after her, and my child, for me...please.”

Laurens wasn’t sure what to think. Naturally, he didn’t want to and, though he wouldn’t admit it, he had somewhat of a hatred against Eliza. It broke his heart when he found out about Alexander’s marriage. As fantastical and unlikely as it was, he had hoped for a life where they could simply live. Perhaps in a house in the woods, or a plantation in the south, or even an apartment in New York. Laurens didn’t really care, as long as they were together. But that was shattered when Eliza came along and it broke further when he heard of her pregnancy. It reminded Laurens of his own daughter across the ocean in London, and how she must be praying for a father who doesn’t hate her.

“Jack?” Alexander said. John looked up and tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. “I’m not asking you to love her, only that you look after her, for me, please” As weak as his voice was, Laurens could still hear the desperation.

“I will, my love,” John said, smiling, “I promise.” His smile wasn’t as genuine as it should’ve been, but it was worth it to see Alexander smile. He kissed John’s hand and he couldn’t help but lean in for another kiss.

“I love you, Alex,” John said as he pulled back, his hand still on Alex’s face. 

“I love you too, my dear,” his smile was falling. His breathing was slowing and his eyes were dropping. Laurens felt his hand slack. With his last drop of energy, he looked up at his lover and smiled with one last squeeze. 

Then he was gone.

Laurens didn’t realise what had happened at first, but when reality set in, he didn’t want to believe it.

“No no no,” he whispered. He held Hamilton up by his shoulders and felt his heart break at the sight of his head flopping. As he whimpered, John put him back down and checked his pulse. “No, no, please, no.” Tears were starting to pour and soon he was shouting and screaming. His cries were heartbreaking, even to those who didn’t know him and could hear him from outside the tent. He screamed for what seemed like hours and he didn’t stop until his throat was hoarse and dry. After that they became incoherent mumbles as tears fell like waterfalls down his face. Then they became sobs. Then everything was quiet.

“Colonel Laurens”

Laurens’ sat up straight. That was General Washinton’s voice.

Shit.

* * *

It had been two weeks since Hamilton died. Two weeks since Laurens had been arrested.

They didn’t even let him out for the funeral.

Not that it was very long, according to Tench Tilghman. Apparently, some of the generals didn’t even want it to happen. They left Laurens to cry himself to sleep.

The room he was in was small. It was cozy. A small beige cot opposite the door, a mahogany side desk barely big enough to write on and not much else. The cot was old and falling apart and it wouldn’t be long until the desk followed suit. He knew he was lucky to have as much as he did, which wasn’t a lot. Most of his time was spent staring at the oak door, it wasn’t thick and it wasn’t quite big enough for the frame so a draught was constantly coming through. Every time a conversation started in the corridor, he could hear almost everything. Usually, he moved closer to the door, but as soon as he did, the conversation would go quiet and he would hear footsteps shuffling away.

He was starting to feel trapped. The walls were slowly feeling closer and closer and the wall lower and lower. Suddenly, the desk wasn’t big enough and the door was getting closer every day. The cot was forcing him to curl up and the pillow was hurting his neck.

At the start, he’d asked for a paper and quill. Tilghman had tried to sneak some in but faced Washington after he heard scratching. Laurens wished he hadn’t asked. The food he received was… less than satisfactory. He was well aware of the war still stopping supplies, so he knew he shouldn’t complain, but he could tell someone was making sure he got less food than he needed. Over the two weeks, Laurens had lost some weight, and all of his muscle was practically gone. His legs were in pain from only being able to sit, and his arms were cramped and sore. However, his head was hurting the most. It wasn’t in physical pain, though he sometimes felt dizzy when he stood up, it wasn’t easy to describe. He couldn’t escape the unending fears of hopelessness and sadness. At night, he would cry himself to sleep and during the day he would spend hours losing himself in his own mind. Hours flew away as he thought of everything he could’ve changed. What he should’ve done to save him. What he should’ve done after he heard of his marriage. What he should’ve said before he ran away to the South. What he should’ve said to Martha before escaping to America. What he should’ve done before Jemmy died. How he wished he’d checked the rope before--

“Laurens?” Tighman’s voice. Laurens snapped out of his head and looked at his friend. His eyes were tired with deep purple bags under them and his auburn hair was unwashed and falling out of it’s ribbon. In his inky hands was a single letter. It looked very thick and slightly weather damaged. “This arrived for you.” He slowly held it out so Laurens took it. 

At first, he thought it was from his father “news travels fast, it seems” he thought, but he didn’t recognise the handwriting. The envelope had been opened. “His excellency wanted to check it,” Tilghman said quickly. Laurens looked at him expectantly with a small scowl and his eyes flicked between the Tench and the hall. “The General asked me to stay,” he looked down and mumbled. Laurens remained quiet as his scowl tightenned. After some time of Tilghman staring at the ground, Laurens looked down at the letter and pulled it out. It was addressed from France. Martha. He pushed down the horrible thoughts and tried to read, but the words couldn’t register. Laurens looked back up at Tilghman who jumped and looked back down. Slowly, he lowered his head, but couldn’t settle their nerves.

The letter was quite long - 3 pages or so - and from his father in law, but he couldn’t read after the third line.

“As of my writing this, my daughter succumbed to illness two days past, your daughter was close and family was near.” The rest of the letter was meaningless to Laurens. His wife was dead.

With wide eyes, he looked up at Tilghman. “His Excellency is working on a plan-”

Laurens furrowed his brows.

“A plan for what, I don’t know,” he waited for a second, studying Laurens, “All I know is that you and your,” he paused thinking, “charges, are involved.” He nodded awkwardly, then left with his eyes to the ground. The door moved to close.

“Tench.”

Tilghman poked his head around the door, slightly shocked at Laurens’ use of his Christian name. His face moved to confusion as Laurens thought of what to say. He wanted to say so much, but at the same time, wasn’t quite sure what. “Where is he?” His voice was hoarse and dry from the bare minimum water and two weeks of no use.

Tilghman leaned into the room nervously.

“I’ll speak to his excellency about it, John” and he left.

Laurens looked down at the letter and started to think. He didn’t feel like he had just lost a lover. He didn’t feel unfiltered rage or never ending depression as he did with...him, he just felt slightly… empty. Perhaps it was because already was mourning his lover, but part of him felt it was necessary. Since falling in love, Laurens had felt a sense of doom over his marriage to Martha, like it was bound to end eventually. He didn’t feel like his wife had just died, only that he’d lost a long-lost friend. Letters from his family in London had been drying up, and even when they came Laurens could never find the will to respond.

Then there was his daughter, Frances. Since her birth, Martha had been taking care of her, now that responsibility fell to him. Laurens hoped he could keep Frances in her English family’s care for as long as possible. But that was out of his control. It was up to the General what he did next.

So he lay down and fell into a broken and tormented sleep.

* * *

“Jack?”

Laurens opened his eyes. That was Jemmy’s voice. It was echoing from down the corridor but he sounded miles away. He needed help.

“Jack, where are you?” Jemmy was sounding desperate and in pain. Laurens sat up and looked at the door. It felt wrong to leave without permission, but his determination won over: he needed to help his brother. As he swung open the door he heard another voice.

“James, read a book or something.” That was Harry. He was in the main room. Laurens ran down the corridor.

“But I wanna go outside!” Jemmy whined. Laurens was getting closer.

“No! John said to stay inside while he’s gone.” Harry sounded scared. Laurens ran faster.

“I wanna go outside Harry, please! We don’t have to tell him!” 

The hallways seemed longer than Laurens remembered

“No, Jemmy, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Laurens rounded a corner so quickly he slammed into the wall.

The voices went quiet. Laurens tried to speak but no sound came out of his mouth. He kept sprinting down the endless corridor. It was starting to feel smaller. The ceiling was so low he was starting to crouch, his shoulders were slowly being pushed in as he ran as fast as he could. 

Suddenly, he tripped and fell through the door into the main room. He could hear voices, but they didn’t sound like his brother, they sounded like… Martha?

“Jemmy!” Harry’s voice screamed. He sounded terrified and right next to Laurens’ ear, but at the same time so far away. Shaking, Laurens stood up and closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure why, but he feared the worst.

“John,” his father’s voice said. Instinctively, Laurens’ eyes flew open and he almost vomited at the sight before him.

Jemmy was sitting on the table doodling as blood flowed from his skull. His tongue was sticking between his teeth as he focused on drawing. Despite his cold, dead eyes, the blood showed no signs of stopping. Laurens fought the urge to throw up as he stumbled back. Jemmy looked up.

“Jack? Why do you look scared?” he seemed sad as his head tilted slightly. Blood was sloshing out of his skull, and Laurens found himself gagging at the sight. “Did I do something wrong?” his silvery eyes widened as tears started to form. “I’m sorry, Jack, I didn’t mean to make you sad.” Tears spilled as the blood in his skull bubbled.

At this Laurens broke eye contact and stumbled down further.

“Do you want one Jemmy?” Polly was talking now. Laurens looked back up. All of his siblings sat around the table, playing tea party. Little Harry, Nelly, Eli, Patsy, Harry II, Jemmy and Polly, All except, Patsy, Harry II and Polly looked dead. They were slim and malnourished, some had sick running down their chins but all had identical slivery, dead eyes. Jemmy looked the same as he did before, the only ones who weren’t living seemed off. Patsy’s eyes were slightly unfocused, Harry’s scar was gone, and Polly’s hair was shorter and her face was more manly. They were all chatting like nothing was wrong, like the dead weren’t here and moving.

Laurens tried to move but felt stuck to the ground. Pasty looked up,

“Don’t you want to join us John?” she smiled softly.

“Yes! Come on, John we have a spot for you!” Nelly beamed as she pointed to the seat opposite her, next to Jemmy. All Laurens could do was gape as four pairs of cold eyes looked up at him, expecting. He tried looking to Patsy, Harry and Polly but their eyes seemed just as dead despite their colour. Shaking, he looked between the seven of them until he managed to break and looked down at the floor.

“Jack?”

Laurens jumped at that. “Mother?” he thought. Slowly, he looked up and saw his mother sadly staring at him from the head of the table. Eleanor was just as beautiful as the day she died, save for her cloudy eyes. “Won’t you sit?” she said.

Then he managed to move. But he ran backwards. He spun around and threw himself through the door behind him. Voices were shouting after him, but he was too scared to turn back around. The hallway was even longer than before. Any light slowly disappeared as he ran down the corridor. He kept going and going until there was nothing. No sound, no light, no walls, nothing.

He tripped.

He was falling though nothing.

Endlessly.

Then he hit the ground.

It was hard, like earth, and there was no longer infinite darkness. But there was still no colour. Laurens stood up and looked around. There were graves everywhere, all covered in names that meant nothing to John. He was looking for something, what, he wasn’t sure, but he needed to find it.

A scream came from his left. There was a small building, the type of thing a richer politician would be buried in. The scream sounded familiar but he didn’t have time to think about it, he simply ran to the sound, barely avoiding falling over graves. His heart was beating in his ears and a strange rush of adrenaline was pushing him forward. After what felt like a few seconds but must’ve been minutes, Laurens reached the building and hesitated… he wasn't sure why. After pushing the weird hesitation down, he pushed open the door, and wished he never fell asleep.

On the grave lay the dead bodies of his two lovers. He looked like he’d been thrown down into the grave. His ginger hair was over his face and his uniform was creased and dirty. Tilghman hadn’t been lying then. Next to him, Martha was far more neat, clothed in a nightgown with her hair neatly pulled back behind her head. They looked peaceful. But it scared Laurens. Part of him hadn’t quite accepted that they were dead, especially not Martha. His instincts told him to investigate Martha but he found himself being drawn to his other dear. Laurens crouched down next to him and put his hand delicately on his cheek. Surprisingly, his skin was warm to the touch and his hair was still as soft as John remembered, and he smiled softly as he pushed it out of his face. Tears were slowly falling and Laurens welcomed the sadness with open arms, he really needed it. He stayed there kneeling for some time, simply stroking his lover’s hair. If John focused enough, he looked asleep and could forget everything horrible that had happened. Slowly, John leaned in, to kiss his cheek.

The body became cold and rubbery under the touch of his lips, so he pulled back, scared. Instead of looking asleep, the body now looked greyish. Blood was dripping from the corner of his mouth and his jaw was hanging down slightly. Laurens froze for a moment, trying to process what had happened, even though it somehow made full sense to him. Thinking, he ran his eyes up and down his face, avoiding his eyes. He was thinking of everything and nothing. Then he looked at the closed eyes.

They opened.

In a second, the floor disappeared. John was falling through nothing. All he could see was endless darkness and he could feel nothing. He was slowing down and speeding up. Suddenly, he felt something drag him down. Something had a hold around him and was forcing him down. Invisible walls were closing in again and he saw bright purple eyes. Then he was consumed by the walls.

* * *

Laurens’ eyes opened with a snap. He felt as though he’d slammed on his bed and his heart was racing. The dream was still fresh in his mind. Sweat was dampening his cot. Slowly, his mind was catching up and the memory was slipping away. However, the tea party would haunt him, he was sure of it. Wiping his brow, he sat up and tried to gather himself. Then he heard knocking.

“John?”

Tilghman.

More knocking.

“John, are you alright?”

Knocking again.

“Come in.” John’s voice was hoarse and dry, like he had been screaming. Gingerly, the door opened and Tench’s head appeared around the corner. He looked even more tired than the last time Laurens saw him. The purple bags under his eyes were deeper and his hair was even more disheveled. It was clear he was trying to keep himself emotionless, but his exhaustion was stopping that. He looked worried, sympathetic even.

“The General wants to see you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u enjoyed ! leave a comment if u did ! I'm over on tumblr also @slowlydescendingintomadness !
> 
> the chapter title is from Achillies Come Down by Gang of Youths
> 
> (btw there are no intentional references in this, and im unlikely to ever make one ever/lh)
> 
> next chapter coming,,, whenever i post i have no schedule


End file.
